May 31
“The last time he had held someone like this, she was a small and tender thing, more bones then the bracelet that kept sliding from her tiny wrist. Will was solid and somehow resistant even when unconscious, as though something in his very fabric made him thrash.
He had brushed a knuckle across her cheek too, only to feel her fever an inferno too large for her body to hold. Will’s was cool. Unlike all those months ago.
He pushed the dark behind the splintered doors of his mind, and turned to tend the fire.”
